Just great, Capri. You finally get that thrill you were looking for, and you go on and fall asleep on the one guy who seems to do it for you.

  “I think picked up by the throat is an exaggeration. But I am fine. All is well. I gotta get to work. So, let this go,” I told her, jerking on my riding pants.

  She stood there, studying me with her mouth cocked to the side while she chewed on the inside of her jaw. She’d been doing it since we were kids. That look meant she wasn’t sure what she believed and was working through it. I’d have to let her do that and hope Tyron stayed quiet for now.

  Slipping on a sports bra and a tank top, I went to pull my hair up in a ponytail.

  “The things Tyron said sound like what I’ve heard of Thatcher.”

  I walked past her and grabbed my purse. Then paused to look for my phone. “Believe what you want, but it was all exaggerated. Now, you have got to go because I am leaving and locking up.”

  Where had I left it? I went back to the bedroom and checked all the usual places. Nothing. UGH! I didn’t have time to find it. I’d just go without it. Not explaining it to her, I headed for the door.

  She followed me outside onto the porch.

  “I’m worried about you,” she said behind me as I locked the bolt.

  “Don’t be. I’m fine. Great even.”

  She had no idea how great I was. It was a realm beyond what she could imagine. I’d heard her talk about sexual things she’d done, and not once had she described what I’d experienced last night.

  I smiled brightly at her and headed down the stairs and out to my car.

  “Please be careful,” she called out to me.

  I raised a hand and waved at her without looking back. She didn’t know what she was talking about. None of them did. Except Tyron. He had told the truth, but it all came down to where my loyalties lay, and morals had nothing to do with it. I would not let Thatcher get in trouble for what he had done. Tyron was fine. His ego was a little messed up, I was sure, but other than that, he was good. He should have left when he was told to. It wasn’t a pissing contest. He’d made it one.

  Pulling up to the stables, I didn’t see Thatcher’s truck, and that was a bit deflating. I was here to exercise horses anyway. Might as well not get distracted. He’d definitely do that.

  King was walking out of the front with Sword when I got to the door.

  “Morning,” he said. “Derek has Pharaoh ready for you to take out.”

  “Thanks!”

  He kept going and headed inside toward Pharaoh’s stall.

  Derek stepped out with Pharaoh’s rein and tensed when he saw me. We’d once been friendly, but since JB had left, he had been distant, like the others.

  “Morning, Derek,” I told him. “Going to get my gear on, and then I’ll be right out front.”

  He nodded, then led Pharaoh away without a word. I was about ready to just confront the ones that were being weird with me. If JB had left because of me, then I needed to know. I could go apologize and fix it if I knew.

  “Capri, good morning,” Sebastian said.

  I turned to see him walking inside with Carmen. I paused. Carmen was a very-sought-after jockey. He’d been at it much longer than me and had so many wins that I didn’t even know the total count. He’d been the Shephards’ most used jockey when they contacted me about riding for them. I had never met him, but I had seen him race.

  “Carmen, this is Capri—or have the two of you met?” he asked.

  Carmen gave me a tight, almost-condescending smile. “No, we haven’t met. You’re the one who rode Bloodline in the Belmont Derby.”

  I nodded. “Yes. It’s nice to meet you. I’ve seen you race several times.”

  He smirked. “I imagine so.”

  Okay, so that was rude and cocky. I didn’t think I liked him much.

  “Carmen is going to take out Zephyr after you warm him up. See how they work together.”

  For the Bing Crosby Stakes. I already knew that was what this was about. They were looking at someone else more seasoned to ride Zephyr. He was their next champion, and they didn’t trust me on him. Or Thatcher didn’t trust me. It was his horse after all. This was business. I had to remember that. Carmen had been in big races and was a known winning jockey.

  Just because I’d had Thatcher’s head between my legs did not mean I got to race his horse.

  It still felt like a kick in the stomach. Even though I understood it, the pain remained, throbbing.

  “Great,” I said tightly, not meaning to. “I need to get out there and start. See you later,” I replied, not even glancing back at Carmen and his smug face.

  I took several deep breaths on my way out to the track. I had to let it go. The horses didn’t need to feel my emotions. It would mess with them. Taking another breath, I looked out at Pharaoh and got my focus centered. I was here to exercise the horses. All thoughts of Thatcher had to be closed off until I was alone and could deal with it.

  • Twenty-Nine •

  “I didn’t fuck you. If I had, your tight cunt would know it.”

  Capri

  My eyes snapped open, and the darkness in my room with only the moonlight coming in through the window told me I’d done it again. Woken up for no reason. Straight out of a deep sleep. Annoyed because it had taken me forever to go to sleep, I sighed and rolled onto my back.

  The scream that came from my mouth was immediately muffled by Thatcher’s hand as I stared up at him, realizing the dark figure towering over my bed was him. My heart continued to hammer against my chest, but I stopped screaming.

  What was he doing here? Better yet, how had he gotten in here?

  I hadn’t seen him all day, and because my phone was lost, I didn’t know if he’d called or texted me. I doubted either. He wasn’t the type.

  He removed his hand from my mouth, then traced my lips with his finger. My body did a complete one-eighty and went from terrified to excited just that quickly. My heart was erratic now for other reasons. He was here in my room again.

  His finger trailed down my chin, neckline, and then played with the satin edge of my camisole. “I like this one best.”

  This one what? My camisole? It was a white satin camisole top that had matching white sleep shorts. But he had never seen it or any of the things I slept in.

  “You changed the sheets,” he said. His voice sounded raspy.

  I nodded. “There was something on the others.”

  The sadistic curl of his lips made me shiver.

  “My cum,” he said.

  His cum? Wait! What? Had we …

  My eyes widened as I stared up at him, trying to remember more.

  “Easy, little doll,” he said as his finger ran over my breast and started circling my nipple through the fabric. “I didn’t fuck you. If I had, your tight cunt would know it.”

  My breathing hitched when I heard him talk about my cunt feeling him after he’d been inside me. I wanted to know that. If it was an ache or even pain, I wanted it.

  “You were lying here, all precious and sated. Your thighs open wide. Your bare pussy wet and swollen. It didn’t take many jerks before I shot my load on that sweet skin.” He tugged up my top until my breasts were bare. His gaze stayed on them as he began to play with them. “You looked like an angel. My cum slipping down your flat stomach until running over your pink pussy lips and down your thighs.”

  He’d jerked off over me last night while I was asleep. That was … bad. Right? Wrong? I hadn’t been conscious. I should be upset or horrified. Instead, I squirmed, needing to hear more. I loved the deep timbre of his voice, but it was better when he was saying vulgar things.

  His eyes snapped up to mine. “You like that,” he said. “It’s making your pussy wet?”

  I nodded slightly. No need to deny it.

  He took the covers and pulled them back until they were crumpled on the floor at the foot of the bed. Reaching down, he took my right leg and lifted it, then laid it open.

  “These are definitely my favorite,” he drawled. “White, pure, except here. It’s wet. The satin is darker. No one sees your dirty secret but me.”

  I was panting. I could hear myself. My body was shivering. Every word he spoke, I was closer to ripping my clothes off and begging.

  “Smelling your panties wasn’t enough today. Neither was rubbing my cock with them. I still craved this,” he told me as he reached for my bottoms and began tugging them down my legs.

  “What panties?” I asked.

  He looked from my bare vagina to me. “The ones you wore last night. The ones you soaked with your needy juices. I took them. Licked them. Fucked them.”

  I covered my eyes with my arm. “Oh God.”

  I was picturing him doing all those things. But the image of him rubbing his dick with them was really doing it for me. Why was his outrageous, obscene behavior so freaking hot? Probably because he was so freaking hot.

  “Where are the ones you wore today? You’re not wearing any for me to take tonight. Being naughty. Did you touch this cunt when you got in bed?”

  I’d started to. I’d been thinking about him when I climbed in, and I wanted to get off. But it hadn’t been enough. Now that I’d had his mouth down there, I doubted my fingers would ever bring me there again.

  “I didn’t,” I told him.

  “You didn’t touch yourself?”

  I shook my head. “I tried, but it didn’t feel like it used to.”

  He ran a finger between my folds, and I let out a cry of pleasure from finally having him there. I watched him take the same finger and lick it, then suck it hard into his mouth. I slammed my legs together and squeezed, needing to ease the ache.

  “No, no,” he scolded, opening my legs back up. “I need these creamy thighs open. You want that pussy eaten, don’t you?”

  Yes. God, yes. I nodded and whimpered at the same time.

  His mouth curled into a wicked smile as he lowered his head, keeping his eyes on me. “Good girl,” he whispered. “You are such a good girl. For everyone except me. You open your legs for me. Let me play with that perfect, untouched pussy. You let me taste it.”

  His tongue ran up the center, and I grabbed handfuls of the sheet beneath me.

  “YES!” That was what I wanted.

  Thatcher let out a snarl as he grabbed my thighs, pressing me open wider, and buried his face against me. He rubbed my vagina all over his face as he made animalistic sounds, lapping at me as his mouth brushed against any part of my sensitive flesh.

  “FUCK!” he shouted, moving back.

  His shoulders rose and fell. I could hear his heavy breathing.

  “You’re gonna fuck my face. I want you riding me. I need this pussy smothering me while you squirt all over me.”

  He rolled over, lying on his back, and wrapped his arm around my waist. “Get on my face,” he demanded.

  His face? What in the world? I moved over and got up on my knees beside him. One of his hands was rubbing his erection through his pants. The other one was pulling me to him.

  “Straddle my face.”

  My eyes widened. He was being literal. He wanted me to actually put my vagina over his mouth and ride him? I shivered.

  He flicked his tongue at me, then winked. “You want it on your pussy? Come take it.”

  I climbed over him and did as he’d told me to. My thighs straddled his face, and his hands grabbed the tops of my legs and pulled me down until his magical tongue touched where I needed it. When I sank down onto him, he hummed against me in appreciation.

  As I rocked slightly, my clit rubbed against his open mouth. His tongue lay flat as I pressed against it. His hands moved to my butt and grabbed handfuls and squeezed as he brought me closer, then sank his tongue inside me and began to mimic fucking. I grabbed on to the headboard and bounced gently.

  A deep sound came from him, and I felt the vibration between my legs. I felt his body jerk, and I glanced back to see his hand wrapped around his cock, pumping it. That was big. I’d seen it before in the tack room, but it seemed larger now. How did those fit? Pausing, I stared at the thick, swollen head and veins that stood out until I saw the flash of metal at the base.

  What was that?

  He groaned and began sucking my clit. My hands squeezed the headboard, but I kept looking over my shoulder as he worked his hand over his erection hard and fast. I hadn’t thought the sight of that would be beautiful, but it was. I wanted to do it. I wanted to see his face when he got off.

  His tongue flicked hard, and I began losing focus as I moved faster, feeling the tickle of the orgasm that was about to break free. Desperate for it now, I began riding his mouth and taking my pleasure.

  “OH GOD!” I shouted as the moment before the climax grabbed me, then let go, and the delirium once again took me. “AH! AH!”

  A warm gush felt like it sprayed out from between my legs. What was that?

  Thatcher let out a savage sound and shoved his finger inside me as he lapped at me like a wild animal who was lost in its own craving. I sobbed out his name as another jolt racked my body at the sight of him. Slowly, I began to come back down, and his tongue was too much. A deep growl and heavy breathing hit my thighs as I lifted up to move off his face. When his eyes met mine, they seemed lost, and an almost-vulnerable look came over his face.

  “FUUUCK,” he shouted, and his body jerked.

  Realizing what was happening, I swung my gaze to his cock to see thick white ropes of cum coming out with each pump of his hand. He made more sounds of pleasure, but I couldn’t look back to his face. I was transfixed on this. It was incredible.

  I wanted to touch it. Taste it. Feel it. He’d shot all that on me last night. I wished I’d been awake to see it. I’d have been able to feel it then. Was it hot? Warm?

  “Not enough,” he said, snapping my attention back to his face. He sat up, grabbing my shoulders, and spun me around, then shoved me onto my back. “I want more.” His voice sounded as if he had lost some control. There was a hedonic gleam in his eyes as he opened my legs and began licking at me as if he couldn’t stop himself.

  “No,” I begged.

  It was still sensitive. Having him down there was almost painful. I squirmed, and he grabbed my hips, holding me still.

  “That’s too much, Thatcher,” I whined.

  He ignored me and moaned against my clit. That changed things. It wasn’t hurting anymore. The stirring of pleasure was back, and I gasped as he shoved his middle finger inside me.

  “Soak my face, little doll.”

  I panted his name as I clawed at the sheets. The spark hit, and I bucked off the bed as I exploded.

  I felt the wet rush shoot out of me and heard the wetness as he praised me, lapping it up loudly as I continued to shiver.

  I sighed in relief when he finally stopped. My eyes were closed, and I was struggling to catch my breath, but I felt completely content.

  Thatcher’s hand brushed my hair back from my face. I smiled, enjoying his touch more than anything I could ever remember. The covers came up over me, and I sighed contentedly. His deep, heavy breathing was the last thing I heard before I drifted off to sleep.

  • Thirty •

  I wanted away from this place.

  Capri

  In the light of day, last night looked a little different. Maybe if I’d woken up with Thatcher in bed with me, I would have been less aware or focused on what was wrong. Starting with how he had gotten into my house. I had woken up this morning and checked every door and window. Nothing was unlocked or broken. The only helpful thing to come of it was, I did find my phone. It had been in the kitchen near the window by the sink. Which was odd because I swore I’d looked in that area more than once yesterday.

  Slamming my car door with a little more force than necessary when I got out at the stables, I glared at Carmen out on the track with Miller. Yes, business was separate, but didn’t I at least deserve to be told they had decided to let Carmen ride Zephyr in the race? Perhaps before or after Thatcher had unleashed his talented tongue between my legs, we could have had this conversation?

  Frustrated, I headed for the stables. Thatcher’s car was here, and I wasn’t going to just let this go. He owed me a simple, I decided that Carmen was a better fit for Zephyr. Or something. He also needed to tell me how the hell he had gotten into my house.

  Walking inside, I glanced around and didn’t see him in the stalls, then headed for the lounge. The door was open, and he wasn’t in there. I wasn’t going outside until we talked. He had to be in here somewhere. I checked both tact rooms, the office, and headed for the other side when I stopped at the stairs. I’d never been up there. Was that where he could be? Maybe he had his own office up there?

  Taking a minute to decide if I should go upstairs or not, I chewed my bottom lip, then decided that, yes, Thatcher was going to talk to me before I went out and exercised horses. Taking the turn midway, I was almost at the top when I heard it. Or her. It was a her.

  She was loud.

  I gripped the banister tightly.

  “GOD! YES! HARDER!” she screamed. “PLEASE! YES, YES, YES, YES!”

  That could be Sebastian in there. Or Wells. Heck, it could be Storm with his fiancée. I’d seen them almost going at it down by the stalls before.

  “Put it in my ass, Thatch!”

  I swallowed the bile that rose in my throat.

  Standing there, I listened as he apparently stuck it in her ass. She yelled like it hurt, talked about how big it was, that she wanted him to come all over her face.

  When I heard his grunt and her begging for more in her mouth, I knew it was over. At least this round.

  Closing my eyes for a moment, feeling like a complete idiot, I knew I couldn’t ask him about how he had gotten inside my house right now. I’d get new locks put on. I wasn’t sure I could see him again. This was too much.